


First Meetings

by torchbright



Category: Little Witch Academia
Genre: F/F, Friendship, Gen, Romantic Friendship, Slow Burn, prequel!fic, youngcharoix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-07
Updated: 2019-06-07
Packaged: 2020-04-12 01:37:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19121962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/torchbright/pseuds/torchbright
Summary: [Originally written December 2017] The first time they met was at the matriculation ceremony that one year. Then Croix keeps seeing that little red-headed first year everywhere. Young charoix from first meeting to friendship and on.





	First Meetings

**Author's Note:**

> Someone requested this of me and I decided to take this on as a little personal project. Originally posted to my tumblr but I'm slowly moving the stuff I like over here. I hope you enjoy!

* * *

 

 

The first time they met was at the matriculation ceremony that one year. 

 

Croix was blinking back every second or third yawn - and losing out on the others - eyes foggy with exhaustion. Staying up for nearly a week to get a head start on the winter research project definitely hit the top five dumbest things she’d ever done. Maybe top three…

 

Now she was stuck here for the next hour or so, listening to Holbrooke drone on and on through the same spiel she gave every year while Finneran glared every student, from the first years to the upperclassmen, into attentiveness. And if it wasn’t the teachers forcing her to keep her eyes open, it was the incessant buzzing of the overly-excited first-years whispering to each other: oooh they were finally at Luna Nova and did you know such-and-such graduated from here and oh I can’t wait for the start of classes and ooh goodness I can’t believe they allow  _ those _ type of witches in really I thought this place had  _ standards _ . 

 

On top of it all, her roommate kept digging her harpy claw-like elbow into Croix’s side, hissing snidely, “Meridies! Hey, Meridies! Better not be falling asleep now; don’t want the _honor_ _student_ setting a bad example eh, Meridies?”

 

Croix grit her teeth, counted to five, and did not kill her roommate on the spot. Good…. If she murdered Yulia Borowski she’d never hear the end of it from Finneran and Holbrooke would trap Croix in her large, uncomfortably muggy office and lecture about oooh how disappointing it was that Luna Nova’s finest would act out at such a momentous occasion and ooh what sort of impression was Croix giving to those poor first years? Then her research project would be delayed even further and she’d have nothing to present to Professor Woodward and  _ that _ would be an absolute tragedy. So. Unfortunately. Yulia Borowski must continue to be a gnat encircling her existence. For her research. 

 

God. Was Holbrooke done yet? 

 

Her thoughts were answered in that moment when her savior flew through the great oaken doors of the grand hall in a flurry of dirt, muddy foliage, and a … a polar bear? 

 

First years shrieked and tumbled around in their desperation to avoid the bear - easily the size of a pony - and its rider who ragdolled around on it. Between the chaos of the screaming students, confused professors trying to maintain order, and her own half-awake state, Croix could only make out a mess of red bouncing around amongst the rest of the mess. 

 

Sparks like fireworks shot off at random intervals from the rider’s wand. Each shot burst and bud off in a never-ending chain reaction and the polar bear, pupils blown wide with enchantment by the sparks, flounced around, rearing up on its hind legs to reach for the sparks flying around. And in doing so, mowed down any student or teacher in its path. 

 

Before Croix’s near-dead reaction time could catch up to what was barreling towards her with the speed of a crazed polar bear, she realized everyone else had ran and she was the only speed bump left before the rampaging animal. 

 

Just before impact, Finneran snuffed out the rider’s firework spell and Badcock fumbled her way through a restraint spell. The polar bear was forcibly pulled to a stop and the rush of wind generated from that knocked Croix’s glasses askew. 

 

“W-woah, easy ArcaaaaAAAAAssss!” The rider screamed as the polar bear struggled madly against the restraint spell, snarling and roaring. 

 

Little bits of dead foliage, crusted mud, and polar bear spittle splashed onto Croix’s face throughout the spectacle. She blinked a few times, brain start-stopping into an attempt to process what was happening before her.

 

The polar bear heaved up and down, and as Croix’s brain finally delivered the much delayed ‘hey maybe you should move maybe?’ message to the forefront of her mind, the polar bear dipped down and its rider slid forward in her seat, coming to a stop nose-to-nose with Croix.

 

A dirt-crusted face and wide red eyes peered at Croix; hot breath rolled over her lips. 

 

“Um,” the word traveled the short distance between them and those red eyes had the good sense to look sheepish before saying, “Hi?”

 

“ _You!_ First-year! Would you _please!_ Care! To _explain!_ The meaning of _all! This!_ ” 

 

The polar bear’s rampage taken care of, a different kind of chaos replaced it. Students cried and shoved each other in the ensuing mess; Finneran was on a warpath  and the red-headed rider was yanked off the bear and marched away like a prisoner.

 

Their split-second meeting seared into her mind, Croix blinked at the sight of the the professor’s assembling like judges in a trial. For some reason, those red eyes still managed to peek through the gaps of those academic robes and find hers.

 

“ _ Miss Chariot du Nord _ , I  _ demand _ an explanation!”

 

“Now, now, Professor Finneran, no need to take that tone,” Holbrooke said placatingly from somewhere in the crowd.

 

Croix couldn’t quite remember what happened afterwards. Teachers and fairies marshalled the students out of the assembly room and Croix felt herself being swept away with the rest of the crowd.

 

The only thing she remembered thinking was:  _ ‘Her name is Chariot.’ _

 

And after that, Croix did not think of Chariot for nearly a year. 

 

\- - -  


 

Croix stretched her arms overhead, joints cracking loud enough for Yulia Borowski to glare across two tables and three stacks of magical tomes. 

 

Whatever. Borowski can go stuff it. 

 

After more than a year of digging through the archives and pouring over barely legible scrolls, Croix’s research was finally bearing some fruit. She had another month before she would present her findings before the professors, but that was another matter. With this much already accomplished, she was well on her way to being one of the top witches of Luna Nova, if not one of the best in the entirety of Western Europe. Croix smirked. She could probably teach some of these classes better than the current professors. 

 

A chilly autumn breeze drifted through the open library window. 

 

Croix sneezed.

 

That was something to fantasize about another time - back to work. But first, the window. Croix preferred the cold, but the breeze was distracting. One hand on the latch, she paused at the sight taking place in the grassy courtyard below: a sparse gathering of rather unimpressed students and a lone student with her wand held aloft. 

 

Though her back was turned, something about her red hair gave Croix pause and for one who so easily ignored distractions, Croix found herself distracted by watching the scene below. 

 

The red-head gesticulated wildly and waved her wand with a flourish, familiar sparks shooting into the sky like fireworks, budding and sprouting in a chain that slowly but steadily grew out of control. The magical fireworks escalated until the spectators fled the scene and one Yulia Borowski leaned out the library window and casted a spell that summoned a miniature rain storm above the flailing red-head and her chaotic streams of magic, snuffing the fireworks and its castor in one cold downpour.  

 

And nearly right into Croix’s ear, Borowski hollered, “Hey, you daft??? Don’t cast the spell if you can’t use it!  _ Moron _ !!” Without further ado, she slammed the window shut, muttering, “That Chariot du Nord…. Why is she even here when all she does is mess around?” 

 

_ Chariot _ …. No wonder those sparks were familiar: that first year with those bright red eyes. When Croix glanced out the window, she found the drenched red-head toeing the muddy grass around her glumly. Seems Chariot hadn’t improved since then. 

 

As if hearing her thoughts, Chariot raised her head and met her eyes, a spark of familiarity growing in her eyes. She lifted her hand in greeting and even from this distance Croix could make out the beginnings of a shaky smile on her lips. 

 

Croix turned away at the last moment. It had nothing to do with her. 

 

\- - -  


 

Or so she thought. Ever since that afternoon in the library, Croix seemed to hear about Chariot’s various colorful exploits everywhere she went. Fireworks shooting out of the second floor toilets every time they flushed. Somehow catching a love-love bee and “losing” it in the faculty lounge. More fireworks going off during broom practice. The list goes on.

 

She could be in class, in the cafeteria, or in the library, and someone would be talking about Chariot. Seemed strange to be surrounded by so much gossip of a girl Croix hadn’t really ever even interacted with. Was Chariot always this infamous or had Croix just somehow never noticed how talked-about Chariot was? Or was it that Croix just suddenly found herself distracted by Chariot? 

 

Even by herself in the cafeteria, Croix found herself frowning. Ridiculous. How could she be distracted by some underclassman she never even talked to? 

 

Her research project had been welcomed by the professors with open arms. Now that the bulk of her time was free until the next project, her brain needed something - anything -  to fill that space. It just so happened her brain decided to latch onto school gossip. That was it. 

 

Besides, they were in different classes and different grades: no reason they would ever interact. With that thought firmly in mind, Croix stood and immediately walked into Chariot. 

 

“Oomph!”

 

“Ow, ow!”

 

Between her aching forehead and those wide red eyes peering up at her, Croix didn’t know where to begin.

 

“Um…” Chariot started, eyes darting back and forth like a small nervous animal before she decided on a sheepish smile, “Hi?”

 

The sheer ridiculousness of the situation and the wave of familiarity it brought washed over Croix and she let out a breathless laughter. “Hi.”

 

Evidently Chariot hadn’t been expecting that response; she flushed and struggled to say anything else for a few moments. 

 

Amused at the younger girl’s hesitant manner and how it completely contrasted the overly confident performer in the courtyard from the other day, Croix smiled lightly and said, “That spell you were casting the other day. It’s the same one from the matriculation ceremony.”

 

“Ah...yeeeeah... that,” Chariot muttered, scratching the back of her neck, a mix of embarrassment and irritation on her face. “I thought I finally got it down after trying for months, but… I guess not.”

 

“Well, of course not,” Croix said. 

 

Chariot’s demeanor dropped, her face a miserable picture of shame.

 

And  _ then _ Croix remembered the gossip and criticisms circulated by the other students regarding Chariot, the very thoughts she had been so distracted by. Very rarely did Croix regret her words. If she said it out loud then they were necessary. But now more than ever before, Croix wished she could slap her words back down her throat. Seeing the normally lively girl be so quiet and withdrawn felt wrong.

 

_ Ridiculous! They don’t even know each other! _

 

Despite that thought, she continued, “T-that’s an advanced spell; most witches don’t even start attempting it until they’ve completed at least second year. You’ve just started here, so there’s no reason to expect you’ll get the spell down in a few months.”

 

Chariot perked up as Croix’s words settled in her mind. Slowly, the usual starry-eyed glimmer in her expression returned and a hesitant smile began growing on her lips.

 

Croix felt herself calm down at the sight. She knew she could be blunt at the worst of times, but she really hadn’t meant to be insensitive. Not that they’re all that close or anything, but Chariot must get enough of that from her classmates. No need to be unnecessarily cruel to someone with that much exuberance for magic. 

 

Croix continued, “I think it’s an admirable attempt though.”

 

The wobbly smile on Chariot’s lips blew up into sheer, unrestrained joy. 

 

It was… captivating. A nice smile, yes - that’s what it was. 

 

Chariot suddenly smacked her forehead. “Oh my gosh!”

 

Startled by the other girl, Croix tensed, “What?”

 

“I almost forgot why I came over here!” She held out her hand, face flushing with embarrassment though her smile in no way diminished. “My name is Chariot. I’ve been wanting to apologize for the… um… bear. What happened at matriculation?” Chariot floundered, but pressed on, “I didn’t know how to approach you in case you were still mad, but then when I saw you watching my magic the other day I thought, ‘just go for it! how mad can someone be after a year?’” 

 

Croix eyed the hand offered before her. She stayed silent long enough for Chariot to pale with nervousness. 

 

“Wait. You aren’t actually still mad are you?”

 

“Pffft!” Croix broke into barely-controlled laughter. What an entertaining girl! 

 

It was Chariot’s turn to tense up. “W-what?”

 

With more exuberance than her normally droll persona allowed, she took Chariot’s hand in hers in a hearty handshake. “No, I’m not mad, Chariot. Indeed, it’s nice to meet you. My name is Croix-”

 

“Oh I already know your name!” Chariot interrupted, clasping Croix’s hand with both of hers.

 

“Really now?”

 

Chariot nodded excitably. “Yes! Croix Meridies! I saw your picture on display with the trophies and awards. The professors  _ always _ talk about you. You were the anchor for your team in the broom relay race and you  _ completely _ blew the competition out of the water!”

 

Having that starry-eyed gaze focused on her was a little too much. Despite being the center of attention for most of her endeavors, Croix had to look away before she did something out of character, like turn into a blushing, stuttering mess. “R-right.” 

 

People usually kept their distance even when they heaped their praises and expectations on her. This was different. This was harder to defend against. Her face felt too warm. 

 

Croix noticed Chariot had yet to let go of her hand. But Croix didn’t mind. Their first real interaction and Chariot was already the exception to so many of Croix’s norms. 

 

Eventually they parted, to Croix’s strange and slight disappointment. 

 

Backing up with playful hops and steps, Chariot waved her hands at Croix, her already familiar wide grin in place, “Anyway, that’s all I wanted to say. I’ll see you around, Croix. Thanks, bye!”

 

Croix waved back, certain that this was just the first of their strange and oddly comfortable interactions. 

 

Then Chariot spun around and bumped into the door knob on the way out and Croix had to try her hardest not to snort with laughter as the girl hissed in pain and limped away. 

 

What a strange girl. 

 

\- - -  


 

Before long, the two of them were spending time together regularly. When their schedules would allow it, they took lunch together or studied together; although it was more Croix studying and attempting to tutor Chariot while Chariot found increasingly creative ways to practice her firework spell, and most recently her new hobby: transformation magic. 

 

Croix found that Chariot learned better by doing rather than staring at walls of text until something stuck. Even then, Chariot dragged her feet when it came to classwork. 

 

“But it’s boring! I already know how to do this; I want to know how to make it  _ awesome _ !” Chariot complained, limply flicking her wand and causing the flower seed between them to turn into a green rat with a faint poof. 

 

Croix looked up from the textbook, which displayed a similarly colored and sized rat in the answer box. “Yes, but ‘awesome’ isn’t going to pass your exam. ‘Accurate’ will.”

 

“Boo. Boring.”

 

“Now, moving on to the written portion of the practice exam-”

 

“Ewwwwwww.”

 

Croix tapped the page idly before closing the book and leaning over. “Tell you what: you finish the written part in less than forty minutes and I’ll watch you perform for the rest of the afternoon.”

 

That got her wayward mentee’s attention and Chariot shot up from her slump. “Seriously??”

 

“Seriously.”

 

“Oooh, Croix, you sure drive a hard bargain. Okay, okay! Let’s go!” Chariot said, enthusiastically sharpening her pencil and shoving books and sheets of papers out of the way. 

 

Two tables away, Yulia Borowski looked up at the noise and glared daggers at them. 

 

Chariot waved cheerily back and Croix shrugged in a ‘what are you gonna do about it’ way.

 

Yulia Borowski huffed, threw her things in her bag, and stomped away, the racket her angry exit caused drawing the ever-lurking librarian like a shark to fresh blood. 

 

Croix and Chariot watched the scolding take place, twin grins of smug satisfaction leveled at Yulia Borowski over the shoulder of the irate librarian. 

 

“Now that  _ that’s _ taken care of, “ Croix raised her wand over the hourglass between them. “Forty minutes: ready… and… go.”

 

Satisfied at the amount of concentration Chariot was pouring over her exam sheet, Croix turned to her own classwork. 

 

Even taken into consideration the amount of time she spent hanging out with Chariot, Croix hadn’t neglected her own studies. As a matter of fact, helping Chariot study didn’t even put a dent into the amount of free time she had this year. After her research project delighted the other professors, she had presented her findings to Professor Woodward, who merely thanked Croix for her contributions and sent her on her way without any additional assignments. 

 

Croix frowned. Either her work wasn’t up to Woodward’s standards or Woodward was leaving her on her own to figure out where to take her research next. Maybe she needed to be more specific in her topic? What was something she could delve into and further her work?

 

While her thoughts raced wildly in her head, her wand moved through sheer muscle memory and conjured sigils in the air - the topic of her rune-shaping workshop this week. Distractedly, she strung the sigils together, the glow of the magic washing their table in a light mint green.

 

“Hey, Croix.”

 

“Mm?” 

 

“Y’know, I noticed that… well…”

 

Croix flipped a page in her book, waving away the light mint green sigil and carving another one in its place. Still distracted, she had yet to look up, instead saying, “Thirty minutes left… now twenty-nine minutes, Chariot.”

 

“No, seriously, I have to say this! It’s actually been bugging me for a while now…”

 

Blinking, Croix stopped, at last tuning into their conversation. 

 

Chariot chewed her bottom lip, her hesitant expression at odds with her words just now.

 

Croix set her book aside. “What’s bothering you?” She prompted.

 

Chariot tapped her pencil against the tabletop, chewing the words over in her mind. “Well… like, just now? That spell you were casting, it looked… well, it looked awesome!”

 

Amused, Croix sat back. “That was intermediate rune writing; it’s nothing special. You can do it too, if you take the class. I wouldn’t recommend it though, the lectures are a little dry-”

 

Without warning, Chariot pointed the tip of her pencil at Croix. “That! That’s what I mean!”

 

Staring down her nose at the pencil, Croix was confused. This wasn’t the first time Chariot had seen her scrawl runes. In fact, Chariot’s seen her cast dozens of spells from her advanced-level courses. She’s seen her summon a wyvern for goodness sake! Each time, Croix remembered with a bit of pride, she wowed Chariot with the magic, leaving the younger girl starry-eyed and gaping. And each time Chariot would excitedly hop up and attempt her own casting of the spell, usually to disastrous results, but she’s been learning. Chariot’s firework spell is nearly stable enough to hold a truly beautiful performance; a great and rapid improvement from earlier in the year. The girl certainly didn’t lack drive; Croix’s tutelage only really helped focus that drive. All that work was Chariot’s alone.

 

Maybe that was it? Chariot had improved so much that Croix’s spells were no longer impressive? The thought dropped a heavy stone pit down her stomach. Wasn’t that the reason Chariot had approached her in the first place? She had been dazzled by Croix’s skill, much like their classmates; yet for some reason, Croix had humored her. Why?

 

Well, Chariot was impressive in her own way, constantly seeking to find creative uses for even the most elementary of spells. She was innovative and driven in a way that gradually inspired even the most gossipy and snippy of her classmates to look past her blunders. 

 

In fact, Croix had to admit Chariot was an inspiration to herself at times.

 

“It’s just…You know, your magic is awesome,” Chariot repeated, before adopting an introspective look. “But every time I watch you, you look a little… bored with it?”

 

Leaning back in her chair, Croix tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. She hadn’t been expecting that. Bored? That was… new. ‘Wonderful,’ ‘ingenious,’ ‘graceful,’ and even Yulia Borowski had conceded she was ‘proficient.’ But bored? A small bit of irritation bubbled up from the pits of her stomach. Croix knew her magic and knew how she felt about magic. Bored? Magic had been everything she ever wanted to study. If her exemplary grades and extracurricular performance didn’t perfectly showcase just how  _ enthusiastic _ she was about magic, then nothing did. 

 

She’ll get back at Chariot for that surprisingly stinging comment; the girl was certainly fun to tease.  

 

“Been watching me much?”

 

On cue, Chariot flushed a glowing red and she shook her head roughly. “No! No I don’t… I mean! Oh geez, I didn’t mean to…!” Chariot dropped her head. “I just…” she looked aside, fiddled with her pencil, “I really admire your magic. Like I said, I think it’s awesome and you’re awesome and I want to get as good as you.”

 

Croix mirrored her actions, glancing down. The praise soothed her wounded ego embarrassingly fast. But then again, when it was coming from Chariot, it sounded genuine enough to come from truth. 

 

“... your magic is so wonderful, I can’t help but want to see you smile and feel how happy I feel when I see it.”

 

That…

 

That was so sweet and so,  _ so embarrassing _ . 

 

Croix whipped off her glasses and made a show of cleaning it to distract from the sincere expression on Chariot. “I-is that right?”

 

“Yes! I mean it!” 

 

The grin that worked its way onto Croix’s lips was impossible to hide. Sheepishly, she looked up through her bangs at Chariot. 

 

Exuberant, Chariot jabbed at Croix with her pencil again. “Now that’s what I’m talking about! You have to smile like that, Croix! No reservations, no fear! Show the crowd your pearly whites… wow your teeth are seriously nice.” 

 

Huffing with laughter, Croix replaced her glasses and waved Chariot away. “Seriously, Chariot-”

 

“No,  _ seriously _ , Croix! You have the best smile.” Flushing at her own words, Chariot grinned. “You gotta show it off more!”

 

“Fifteen minutes.”

 

“Huh, wha?”

 

Croix leaned back in her chair. “Fifteen minutes left.”

 

“Huh...oh. Noooooooo!” Floundering, Chariot turned back to her exam sheet, dismayed at how much blank space was left. “No fair; you distracted me with your winsome smile!”

 

“You started it, Chariot.”

 

As Chariot fumbled and panicked, Croix watched the girl, amusement and fondness growing inside. Chariot’s words warmed her heart more than she cared to ever admit. 

 

...Bored, huh. 

 

She never really thought of it that way. For as far back as she could remember, she had voraciously devoured any books on magic. Always looking to expand her knowledge, compare the theories and magics of then to those of now. She remembered thinking to herself, at seven years old and halfway through a tome dating back to the 13th century - which she understood about 10% of, but that certainly didn’t stop her - that one day she was going to write her own grimoire, make her own contribution to magic. Young witches centuries from now would read her ancient and weathered grimoires and know that Croix Meridies had changed the world of magic. 

 

Geez, it’s a little embarrassing to remember how dramatic she was as a kid. 

 

But ever since childhood, that was what magic was to her. It was endless possibilities, it was open doors and a bright future. It was no longer hiding in the dark dusty corner of history, it was being proud, it was being worthy of succeeding the Nine Olde Witches. 

 

Oh yes, she remembered the fables and other little stories her grandmother would tell her. Those tales were a little more fanciful compared to the endless volumes of tomes she tried to read, but they fascinated her no less. An age where witches and magic were as part of the world as planes, computers, cars, and the internet were to present times. When people depended on magic, embraced it. She really thought she could change the world, laying there wrapped in her bedsheets and the soothing voice of her grandmother. 

 

She glanced at the hourglass. Then at the girl across from her. 

 

But something had changed between then and now. Hadn’t it? Croix can’t believe in those fairy tales anymore. Reality dictated she could only believe in her studies and in the future her research would build. These last few years all shaped and sharpened that belief in her. And she had clung to that belief wholeheartedly. Right up until she ran into this strange and exuberant girl. The girl that rode polar bears, tripped over her own broom, and thought the simplest magic to be a wonder in and of itself. 

 

When once Croix would’ve thought that childish, now she wishes Chariot would let that simple-hearted belief carry her as far as it could. 

 

Croix eyed the remaining bits of sand in the hourglass. “A little under a minute, Chari-”

 

“Done!”

 

Surprised, Croix could only watch as Chariot met her eyes and smugly dropped her pencil on the table between them. 

 

When the pencil finished bouncing and rolling, Croix adjusted her glasses. “Well, it’s not enough to finish within time-limit. The answers have to be right too, you know.”

 

“Oh no fair! You didn’t say that before!”

 

Laughing, Croix stood up. “No, I didn’t. Let’s go.”

 

As usual, Chariot’s face was an open book and she skipped happily around the table towards Croix. And if anyone thought it strange to see Croix walking down the hallway with an overly-excited Chariot clinging to her arm, Croix certainly didn’t give them the satisfaction of seeing her be embarrassed about it. 

 

\- - -  


 

One afternoon, Croix was making her way through the courtyard, looking for a quiet corner to practice her object-oriented teleportation magic, when Chariot sprinted out of the bushes with more than a few ruffled feathers. Literally. Evidently she had been practicing her transformation magic again: a pair of magnificent tawny wings grew where her arms normally were and as she ran, leaves and feathers fell off her person.

 

Croix immediately noticed the small shape Chariot held awkwardly between her wings.

 

Chariot’s eyes lit up when she saw Croix. “Croix! I need your help!”

 

Kneeling on the cushiony campus lawn, Chariot gently unfurled her wings to reveal a small baby crow. It was as fuzzy and awkward looking as most species of baby crows, the only difference being that the feathers growing in were stark white. 

 

Croix crouched down and could tell what the problem was without Chariot telling her: its left wing was bent at an angle that could only mean it was broken. 

 

“Please help me, Croix! I wanted to cast a healing spell when I first saw him, but,” Chariot was nearly in tears. “but I knew I was gonna mess it up! And I couldn’t find his nest, but I didn’t want to waste too much time so I had to run and find you-”

 

“Chariot, breathe. It’s fine,” Croix said, gently clasping Chariot’s shoulders, ignoring how awkward the transition from Chariot’s normal human bones to the magically formed wings felt beneath her hands. “It won’t die from one broken wing-”

 

“Oh my god he’s gonna die!! B-because I’m too stupid to heal him!”

 

Croix bit her tongue. Clearly not what Chariot wanted to hear when she was running frantically around campus, too distracted by the baby crow’s pain to change her wings back to arms. 

 

“Chariot!” She must’ve sounded angry because Chariot immediately stopped her babbling and stared up at Croix with watery eyes and wobbling lips. 

 

Not what she wanted to do either… But at least Chariot was listening. 

 

“Okay. Where did you find it?” Croix needed all the information available before she decided the best course of action.

 

“I found him-”

 

Right. ‘Him.’ Remember that, Croix.

 

“-him not too far from the shed on the edge of the south quad. There wasn’t a nest in any of the trees nearby. I tried flying up to take a look around, but I didn’t want to leave him alone for too long.”

 

“Good call,” Croix said, gently running her fingers along the small creature’s head. It cracked open a tiny beady eye at her but stayed silent. “We don’t know how long he was there for.” Croix tilted her head and noted the layers of dirt and spurs lining the little crow’s belly feathers. “It looks like he spent some time crawling around. He might’ve been trying to find his nest-”

 

“And ended up getting even more lost.” Chariot finished with horrified realization. She held him closer to the warmth of her body. “Poor thing. I can’t imagine being this small and lost. You must’ve been so scared…”

 

With a sigh, Croix stood up, wincing at pops and cracks her joints made at the action. “Well,” Croix tilted her head back and eyed the afternoon clouds. The sun would be setting in a few more hours. With the disappearing daylight goes the odds of his parents finding him. “The best thing we can do is take him back to where you found him. His parents might be trying to find him and we want to put him somewhere they might see.”

 

Chariot immediately protested. “I’m not leaving him out there! What if he gets eaten??”

 

Even taking into consideration Chariot’s soft-spot for all creatures great and small, this fierce protectiveness she had for this weird, lumpy, albino crowling was still a surprise. As Chariot glared, eyes still watering and lips quibbling with further protests, Croix could feel herself giving in.

 

Not like she often said no to that face.

 

“He won’t get eaten because he won’t be alone,” Croix answered, crossing her arms, finger tapping at her chin as her mind raced to list all the materials she would need to gather.

 

“Wha-”

 

Making up her mind, Croix nodded decisively. “Take him back to the shed. Stay there. I’m going back inside to grab a few things we’ll need.”

 

Chariot had already scooped the baby crow into her wings and was ready to take off again before Croix even finished speaking.

 

“Gotcha! I’ll be waiting, Croix!”

 

Croix watched her friend quickly make her way across campus again, tired smile forming on her lips. The things she did for that girl…

 

When she rounded the corner of the shed, Chariot was already on her feet, reaching for Croix’s hands and dragging her towards a makeshift nest propped on a couple of small boxes. 

 

“Hurry, hurry!”

 

Croix let Chariot take her bag from her and sift through the contents. She crouched in front of the nest so that the baby crow was directly at eye level. He seemed more awake than earlier, eyeing them both warily. With his small size, he couldn’t be more than a week to two weeks old. Strange. From what she knew of crows, they were incredibly protective of their young. The moment Chariot picked him up, his parents should’ve swooped down on her.

 

“What’s the bird book for?” Chariot asked, holding up the rather large, hardcover textbook.

 

“For reference. I need to know the general size and shape his wing is supposed to be,” Croix answered. Slowly and making sure he could see her hands at all times, she reached out and brushed against his back and body. Aside from tensing under her fingertips, he did not respond. When her finger strayed close to his misshapen wing, he cawed angrily and nipped at the offending digit. 

 

Croix snapped her hand back just as Chariot swooped down over the crow, immediately soothing it. 

 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay… Croix didn’t mean that; you’re okay.”

 

Irritatingly enough, that seemed to calm him down; his harsh cries died down and with one final glare in Croix’s direction, he settled down.

 

Just a little irked at being bit for her troubles, Croix muttered under her breath, “Oh thanks for checking, I’m perfectly fine, Chariot.”

 

Only after copious reassurance from Chariot did the crow allow Croix to get near him again. Propping the thick textbook up against the shed wall, Croix took note of the diagrams and descriptions before applying an advanced mending spell. 

 

Chariot watched, red eyes wide and amazed at the magic flowing gently from the tip of Croix’s wand and into the young bird in her hands. “Wow… this is amazing.”

 

Before her eyes, the awkwardly protruding segment of the young crow’s wing receded and corrected itself, his wing straightening out. As the glow of the healing spell faded, he gave his wing an experimental flap, though his movement was stiff.

 

Croix blew out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. Her eyes stung with sweat that dripped from her forehead. Wincing, she rubbed at her eyes from under her glasses, tired but incredibly proud of herself. 

 

As expected, Chariot started pouring out praises. “Wow...wow! Croix, you did it! It’s perfect; look at him!” She could only contain her excitement for so long before she hopped up and spun around, holding him up towards the sky in her hands. “Now you’re perfect, little guy!” Chariot laughed freely, worry and fear draining from her voice as easily as if they were never there. 

 

Resting against the shed wall, Croix cleaned her glasses and watched Chariot’s antics with bemusement. “Careful. His wing’s been healed, but he’ll still be sore for a few days. I can only do so much even at my level.” 

 

“Still! He wouldn’t be able to move at all if it weren’t for you, Croix.” If Chariot’s grin grew any wider it would split her face. The amount of joy and gratitude in her gaze was too much. 

 

Croix glanced aside. 

 

Sensing Croix’s embarrassment in a way only she could, Chariot continued softly, “It’s true, Croix. You’re so amazing.”

 

What was she supposed to say to praise like that? ‘Gee, thanks’? Chariot’s always been talking up her accomplishments, even the mundane ones like grabbing her a drink after hours of transformation magic practice. Were it anyone else, Croix would be annoyed and brush them off. But Chariot’s words were always bathed in a genuine light. 

 

Or maybe she’s just blinded by her adoration for the girl. Croix’s affection for the little dreamer had almost caught her by surprise, but it really shouldn’t have. She knew from their first few meetings that there was something genuine and good emanating from the girl that nearly ran her over with a crazed polar bear. 

 

“See? He looks so grateful!” Chariot held the crow dangerously close before her eyes.

 

He glared down at Croix, reaching forward and pecking her. The only thing saving her vision were her thick-lensed glasses.

 

“You’re welcome,” Croix gritted out, picking up the textbook and letting him peck away at the hardcover instead.

 

Chariot giggled. 

 

And maybe because she was exhausted and sweaty and tired, Croix found herself joining in. What were they even laughing about? Who knows! All she knew was that Chariot had a delightful flush spreading from her face down her neck the more she laughed; always meeting her eyes, then darting away only to laugh harder.

 

What a strange, adorable girl.

 

Taking a deep breath, Croix pointed at the discarded bag next to Chariot. “There’s some feed in there.” As Chariot reached down and dug into the bag with one hand, Croix continued, “I stopped by the kitchen and asked the fairies for some help and this is what they gave me. Should be enough to keep him fed for a few days while he heals up. We can take turns…” Her words trailed off when she noticed how quiet Chariot had fallen.

 

Chariot stared at the sizeable pouch of feed in her hand for a few moments, eyes fluttering open and closed. 

 

“Something wrong, Chariot?”

 

Her words set off a strange blush on the girl’s face and she rapidly stood up to set the young crow into his makeshift nest. With her back to Croix, she shook her head. “N-no! No, I’m good.”

 

While she busied herself with pouring out a handful of feed, Chariot spoke quietly, “It’s just… I mean, I already knew, but… you’re so nice, Croix.”

 

What was with Chariot and embarrassingly genuine compliments lately? Glad that Chariot was facing the other way, Croix didn’t bother hiding her reddening cheeks. 

 

“Now that’s something I don’t hear often.”

 

“It’s true!” Whatever other self-deprecating comment Croix might’ve had died at the sureness in Chariot’s tone. Without warning, Chariot spun around and met Croix’s eyes. Even as Chariot held her gaze determinedly, her hands stayed clenched and trembling at her sides, a furious blush growing across her face. 

 

Croix was speechless. 

 

“You’re so good, Croix. And not just because you’re super smart and talented or whatever...although that’s really cool too....” Chariot shook her head, muttering, “Wait, that wasn’t what I was going for…” Again, meeting Croix’s eyes, she stumbled on, “I just wanted to say… thanks. For being here with me. Right now.”

 

Seeing her friend gradually lose steam, Croix took that moment to stand up and dust herself off. She still wasn’t sure what she was supposed to do with that praise. With everyone else, she just shrugged them off, but with Chariot, she answered the only way she felt she could. Face still slightly flushed, Croix wrapped her arms around Chariot’s shoulders. “You’re too sweet, Chariot.”

 

And they stayed like that together until the young crow, tired of being ignored, squawked for attention.

 

Startled, Chariot made to pull away before pausing and burying her face further into the hug. “Wow… this is _ soooo _ embarrassing!!”

 

Croix snorted, though she too was dreading the moment they both had to step back and take in each other’s blushing faces and replay that embarrassingly intimate moment over and over in their minds. “You started it, Chariot.”

 

Agonizing it may be, as the older of the two, Croix had to take the first step to set them back on track. Taking in a deep, steadying breath, Croix gently pushed Chariot back and made a beeline for her bag and belongings, making up their schedule as she did. “Let’s see, now that he has food and shelter, the two of us should take turns keeping an eye on him while he heals. We also need to watch for his parents.” Croix doubted they were coming, but she knew better than to say that out loud. Stuffing the textbook back into the bag, she glanced over her shoulder at the other girl. “We can switch off every free period. Does that sound all right, Chariot?”

 

Strangely, Chariot kept quiet. She still stood where Croix had moved her, hands clasped to her face, eyes tremoring with some kind of internal struggle. 

 

Worried, Croix set her hands on Chariot’s shoulders, hoping the gesture would ground the other girl. “Chariot?”

 

Without a word, Chariot slowly tilted her head forward until it rested on Croix’s shoulder. 

 

“Chariot?” Croix asked, hands hovering over Chariot’s back, unsure of what was happening. 

 

She felt the huff of a tired sigh against her shoulder, her only warning before Chariot slumped bodily against her. 

 

Sorry…” Chariot’s muffled voice drifted up from her shoulder. “I’m super,  _ suuuuper _ tired from all the running and the panicking… and the running…. and the transformation magic... And… and I know you must be super wiped from the healing spell too so-so...let’s just take it easy for a bit.” One hopeful eye peaked up from underneath a mess of red hair against her shoulder. “Yeah?”

 

Croix’s athletic prowess being what it was, her trembling legs held them up for all of a second after that shy, hopeful, and positively adorable request. 

 

Honestly she tried.

 

In the next second Croix collapsed and tipped backwards, back crashing into the side of the shed with a thud and crack. Chariot shrieked, the crowling squawked, and Croix’s glasses flew off her face. 

 

When the proverbial dust settled, Croix was slumped on the ground, aching back resting against the shed, and Chariot’s face still glued to her shoulder while the girl kneeled between Croix’s legs. 

 

“Um…” Chariot began, hands moving up to clasp Croix’s shoulders, fingers flexing into a grip to either hold onto Croix or to move away.

 

The events of this afternoon being what it was, Croix was too tired to care about the state of her back - although the numbing pins-and-needles feeling traveling from her lower back down her legs tell her she’s probably going to be limping for the next week or so god broom practice was going to be a literal  _ pain  _ \- instead, she patted Chariot’s head. 

 

“You’re right. Let’s… sit… a moment.”

 

So they sat there in the shadow of the old shed, afternoon light slowly and gently disappearing, with a young albino crowling squinting judgmentally at Croix over his new favorite person’s shoulder.

 

This atmosphere Chariot created for them this afternoon seemed so much like what their relationship had been heading towards these past few weeks. Croix had always felt this gentle affection for the younger witch, an appreciation for her dogged earnestness and her love of magic. A little different from Croix’s own dedication to magic, but no less admirable. Even if it took her brain a while to catch up to how clingy Chariot had grown, it wasn’t something she actively disliked. She might even go on to say she looked forward to those little brushes that gave Chariot an excuse to cling to Croix’s arm or swing their clasped hands together. Though she never liked being touched before, this was what friendship composed of for most girls her age. Definitely not something to pointlessly think about in her head again and again.

 

Croix peered down at Chariot. How did Chariot feel about their friendship? She was the one that usually initiated all the hugs and casual hand-holding. Maybe it was all something she did without thinking. She was a friendly girl after all. Definitely not something to overthink.

 

Chariot hummed and giggled to herself, cheeks practically glowing with a fierce blush, nuzzling into Croix’s shoulder.

 

Croix’s heart skipped a beat.

 

Definitely, definitely not something to overthink. 

 

\- - -  


 

Fighting back a yawn and losing miserably, Croix readjusted her bookbag and stumbled her way back to campus. Another uneventful free period chaperoning the injured crowling, another afternoon of dull lectures and seminars to _ not _ look forward to. Gray clouds crowded up the sky above head. They were expecting miserable rain for the next few days. Great. Now she could expect to be cooped up in that old shed with awful weather and a little crow that hated her guts. She didn’t have many textbooks left that haven’t been thoroughly pecked through. 

 

Nearly two weeks had passed since Chariot found the small animal and since their strangely intimate moment. Obviously ‘strangely intimate’ as in ‘this is the most platonically close we have ever been in our fast and firm friendship’ and not… not ‘intimate’ as in ‘her heart was going to beat out of her chest from the strange need to be even closer, to be all that filled up Chariot’s beautiful, large red eyes.’ Not… not that. Well...either way, not a whole lot had happened since then, neither with the crow nor with the two of them. 

 

Croix knew from the beginning not to expect much from hoping that the young crow’s parents would suddenly reappear; even if she knew the best choice would be to either let the crowling go his own way or find alternative arrangements, seeing the way Chariot dash out excitedly every break to check on him and reassure him that  _ ‘Today is gonna be the day you’re going home!’  _ made it that much more harder to tell Chariot to face reality. 

 

A frown worked its way on her face as she made her way across the damp grass. 

 

Chariot’s kindness and earnestness was beautiful and admirable, but ultimately foolhardy. Croix might’ve suggested the idea in the first place, however dragging it out to the extent Chariot has was too much for too little gain. Really… 

 

“That girl…” she mumbled. 

 

Always charging off without a care for direction or destination, always at her own pace. How can it be that what she loved so much about Chariot was also her most exasperating trait? 

 

And speaking of Chariot…

 

The pitter patter of overexcited feet charging in her direction alerted Croix to the presence of her friend. Chariot raced from the campus, several large plastic bags of what Croix could only guess were ‘supplies’ - knowing Chariot it was all junk food and comic books - swinging from her hands. 

 

Chariot noticed her and made to slow down, a small hesitant smile working its way across her face, the sight of which brought a frown to Croix’s face.

 

Then without stopping, Chariot picked up her pace and raced towards the shed, leaving Croix with just a small wave and that wavering smile.

 

And that was all Croix could think about throughout her afternoon seminar, even as the professor called Croix into her office to suggest some research topics and reading materials. The elderly witch’s voice was a steady buzz of background noise to all the scenarios racing through Croix’s mind: did she do something to upset Chariot, was Chariot somehow uncomfortable with Croix initiating that hug from two weeks ago (but she didn’t say anything at the time!), was it because Chariot was no longer starstruck over her magical prowess and was tired of her, or was it because that damn, ungrateful little albino crow had finally turned Chariot against her?! Each case was more outrageous than its predecessor and though Croix knew logically that her panicked thoughts had almost no basis in reality, her anxiety over this recent weirdness in their relationship dictated she spent as much brain processing power obsessing over it. 

 

“...and regarding the other matter-... Miss Meridies? Are you listening, Miss Meridies?”

 

Fortunately, the professor deviating from her standard droning knocked Croix back into the moment. From behind thick-lensed glasses, the professor regarded her with worry and just a slight bit of disapproval. The weather outside, as if setting the mood for the situation, suddenly kicked up a bluster of wind that rattled the windows. The light casted by the magical lanterns around the office flickered, shaking from the force of the storm beginning to grow outside. 

 

Croix coughed into her fist. “My apologies, Professor.”

 

“How very unlike you, Miss Meridies.”

 

How very unlike her, indeed. Chariot seemed to throw everything into disarray, even when not present.

 

“Are you alright?”

 

Probably not, but as the top student of her grade, if not the entire academy, ‘probably not alrights’ can’t be factored into the equation. 

 

Straightening up, Croix clasped her hands behind her, the very image of stoic and rapt attention. “Of course, Professor. Regarding the other matter…?”

 

That seemed to satisfy the professor, either because that was what she expected from Croix or she didn’t care and wanted to get on with it. “Yes, regarding that particular point in your research: the Nine Olde Witches and the Arcturus Forest. You’ll be pleased to know there are some additional materials available in the restricted section of our Special Research Hall.”

 

Arcturus Forest… Now that got Croix’s attention. 

 

“Although I’m sorry to say most of the material is incomplete and misfiled from that accident back in 1412, I’m sure a bright mind such as yours would have no trouble making use of them.”

 

“Of course,” Croix replied, though her mind was already jumping into the possibility of newly uncovered information, by  _ herself _ no less! This was great!

 

And for the moment at least, all her anxiety over Chariot and their relationship was quietly set aside.

 

In the distance, thunder clapped a warning that Croix failed to notice.

 

It was well past dinner time by the time Croix finally looked up from the dusty, half assembled tome from the Special Research Hall, pulled back into reality by the shrill laughter of her roommate from somewhere down the hall. Irritated, Croix whipped off her glasses and massaged the bridge of her nose. Leave it to Yulia Borowski to interrupt her when she was on the verge of an important connection. Now that she was here, all mental maps and Venn diagrams regarding the Nine Olde Witches and the Seven Words of Arturus she had been steadily building in her mind for the last several hours evaporated, leaving only a few sad clumps of thoughts and theories clinging to the corners of her exhausted brain. 

 

As if to add insult to injury, her stomach decided right then to complain - loudly. 

 

Slumping in her seat, Croix squinted around her desk, checking her snack stash for an energy bar. None. Ugh.

 

Well, she could probably bully the fairies in the kitchen to heat up some leftovers for her. 

 

Her windows suddenly rattled, shaking in their frames from a boom of thunder. Within moments, the lights in her room blew out, magic interrupted by the lightning that followed. Various shrieks and screams sounded from the rooms around her, the loudest of which came from her roommate, of course. A bare few seconds later, the flow of magic resumed and the lights came on, illuminating the heavy sheets of rain pelting her window. 

 

Croix pushed herself to her feet, idly scanning the view outside as she stretched and winced. It was brewing up to be quite the storm of the season outside. 

 

Chariot didn’t like storms, Croix found herself thinking as she quietly made her way out of her room. Not that Chariot was afraid of them or anything. Croix remembered an afternoon when they were rained in from transformation magic practice and Chariot had swaddled herself in sheets on her bed, sitting as far from the window as possible, but stared out at the lightning and rain with rapt attention. 

 

Croix remember thinking her strange at the time, but the thought now brought a fond smile to her lips. The recent weirdness aside, it was those little moments that really attracted her to the girl, finding the quiet sides of her underneath all that excitement and glee. Obviously ‘attracted’ like… well. Maybe she should stop overthinking all these little justifications. Maybe she should just…

 

Ah. 

 

Croix paused.  

 

Chariot would probably appreciate some hot cocoa right now. They hadn’t really had the chance to hang out for a while; even with the weirdness, this could be a good opportunity to spend some time together storm-watching. Croix could use the break and the company. 

 

Changing course, Croix swung by Chariot’s room, but to her surprise, Chariot’s roommates met her question with only worried looks and hesitant voices.

 

“What do you mean Chariot’s not here??” It’s almost curfew - not that that would’ve stopped Chariot, but still…

 

One of her roommates, a thin willowy brunette answered, “We thought… she was with you?”

 

Apparently her roommates thought they were attached at the hips. Well, she wasn’t entirely wrong. Maybe...

 

The brunette wrung her fingers. “Oh dear… you see, she never came to dinner. Oh dear oh dear, where could she be?” She turned to the other roommate, a stocky blonde. “Have you seen Chariot?”

 

“Uh…” The blonde’s eyes swiveled over to Croix, still at the doorway and very visibly losing patience from the look on her face. “Ihaven’tseenhersincelunch!” 

 

“Oh dear oh dear!”

 

“What?” Croix said, all irritation quickly evaporating into worry.

 

Lunch? But that was hours ago. Was she practicing magic in one of the classrooms and lost track of time? 

 

“Ah!” The blonde exclaimed. “Chariot’s been disappearing a lot during breaks recently.” She turned toward Croix hopefully, as if this brand new piece of information would appease her.

 

“Oh dear, what has she been up to?”

 

The worry in Croix quickly condensed into cold, solid fear. Chariot’s been missing since lunch… She never came back for dinner… Chariot’s hesitant smile before racing towards the shed… That crowling she’s been fawning nonstop over… The pouring rain flooding the quad outside... 

 

Thunder burst from the storm and lightning flashed in tune with the rattling windows. 

 

_ Oh no…! _

 

“Dammit!” Croix growled, not caring that at present Chariot’s roommates thought she was bigger and scarier than the storm raging outside. Quickly scanning the room, Croix was dismayed to find Chariot’s cloak hanging limply on her bed post and right underneath it, a sad-looking umbrella. 

 

Dammit!

 

Without wasting a second, Croix grabbed the cloak and umbrella and made a mad dash for the outside. 

 

As soon as she burst through the foyer doors she was thrown into a cauldron of chaos: heavy rain and wind buffeted her slender self first in one direction then another, the sheer force of it nearly lifting her off her feet. Behind her the doors banged and clacked against each other; before her the storm stirred up the great tree branches dotting the quad, sending them crashing into each other and adding to the cacophony of unbridled fury in the air. She could barely make out the shapes in the quad: bushes or buildings, it was all a slurry mess - losing her glasses the second she stepped outside certainly didn’t help, not that having her glasses would help any in this situation. 

 

So intent on slowly forcing steps further into the quad, Croix nearly forgot about the umbrella in her grasp. Goddamnit, she was smarter than this! Here she is, charging out like some bullheaded first year without even pausing to think her actions through - exactly like something Chariot would’ve done! 

 

Flexing her clammy, numb fingers, Croix fought the wind and forced the umbrella open. Immediately the storm attempted to have its way with the umbrella, blowing it and the girl holding it one way than another. Her feet dragged through the muddy lawn from the pull of the wind; Croix struggled to remain upright and regain her sense of direction. She had to make it to the shed!

 

Chariot… the whole reason Croix was even out here, doing something so stupid as to run across the campus in this megaton fury of nature. 

 

Croix gritted her teeth to stop them from chattering. No time to wade slowly through this crap. Taking a deep breath, she ran, each squelchy step on the skiddy lawn bringing her closer to her destination. Her loafers were ruined, she was freezing, and she was basically running blind, the wind-possessed umbrella constantly jerking her off course. It was like running in circles underwater, constantly getting nowhere. 

 

Anger sparked inside.

 

This was just like something Chariot would do! Childish, eager, earnest, head-in-the-clouds, kind, stubborn, wonderful Chariot! So awfully kind as to cry and fuss over a dumb baby crow. So earnest in that kindness as to stay in a half-dilapidated shed during the  _ worst storm ever _ with that crow. So.. so... **_stupid_ ** !!! 

 

Her limbs were numb and her lungs on fire; a sudden powerful push from the storm flipped the umbrella inside out and snapped the pole. Croix held on to it, the sight of the dangling broken umbrella trailing in the wind fueling her anger and filling her with adrenaline her sedentary self had never before experienced. 

 

When the door of the shed flew open, Chariot was suddenly face to face with a drenched, seething Croix Meridies, trembling hand clenched firmly around the mangled remains of her old umbrella. Wheezing heavily, Croix took two shaky steps into the shed proper and jerked the door close. 

 

Sitting on the floor, with the baby crow nestled comfortably in her lap, Chariot could only stare up slack-jawed.  

 

Croix stared back. Then she threw the broken umbrella down and shouted, “You  **_idiot_ ** !”

 

…  _ What?? _

 

Chariot’s jaws snapped shut with a clack; wide-eyed and still reeling from the shock of seeing a dripping wet Croix standing before her, a Croix that had evidently ran from the main building all the way over to this old shed on the very edge of campus through that very big and very scary storm, she could only say, “Buhhwhaavvvff?”

 

Croix stepped closer, hands twitching and still trying to gesticulate wildly. “You idiot! What were you thinking? Do you even know how bad it is out there right now?? Why would you-”

 

Without letting her get a word in, Croix carried on and Chariot could feel her eyes begin to shimmer with tears. Croix had never yelled at her like  _ this _ before. 

 

Disturbed by the intrusion and noise, the baby crow started cawing shrilly, catching Croix’s attention and giving her angry words another target.

 

“And this  _ thing _ ! Chariot, can’t you see you’re just wasting your time out here? You already know its a lost cause! Stop being stupid and come back with me-”

 

Anger sparked inside. Chariot shot up to her feet, a confused crowling sliding off her lap.

 

“He’s not a lost cause - you take that back!”

 

Staggering back at from the force of Chariot’s voice, Croix’s words stumbled out, “Wha-”

 

“And I’m not being stupid! You’re stupid,  _ stupid _ !”

 

“C-camping out in this stupid shed  _ is _ stupid! What did you-”

 

“We can’t leave Alcor by himself like this, stupid! He’s just a baby-”

 

“Wha- who the… you  _ named _ it??”

 

“I named  _ him _ , stupid! And he’s the handsomest baby boy in the whole wor-”

 

“What are you even talking about anymore?! You know what, nevermind! We’re leavin-”

 

“I’m not leaving him, stupid!”

 

“Would you stop calling me stu-”

 

Stomping her feet, the tears finally escaped her eyes. Chariot stomped forward until they were nose to nose. “Because you  _ are  _ stupid! If I’m being stupid, then you’re  _ stupider _ for coming all the way here just to tell me I’m stupid!!”

 

Wordless, Croix grit her teeth and glared down, fighting the urge to feel guilty at the sight of Chariot crying. 

 

Chariot glared back, heaving from the emotions and stubbornly refusing to wipe her tears or move.

 

From somewhere below them, Alcor squawked.

 

Croix sneezed. Into Chariot’s face. Who shrieked so suddenly and so loudly in Croix’s face, she too screamed.

 

And the very short, stupid standoff broke. 

 

They sat side by side, a foot of space between there where Alcor lay snoozing. Outside the storm carried on, shaking the metal sheeting of the shed. The wind snuck in through gaps and crevices with a high whistling sound. 

 

Croix had used magic to dry off as best as she could, putting more effort into drying Chariot’s cloak, leaving herself still cold and clammy. The cloak held in her hands, she sighed, losing the fight against her guilt. She had been immature and cruel; her desperate worry over Chariot was no excuse to go about shouting the things she did. Automatically her hands came up to whip off her glasses and clean them, only to be reminded she had lost them to the storm earlier. She hung her head. She was the older one, she needed to act like it. And seeing Chariot cry earlier…

 

Sighing, she held out the cloak between them, the cloth draping over Alcor who immediately complained.  She ignored him and held it there like a peace offering. “Here. Your cloak.”

 

Chariot stared straight ahead. “Don’t want it.”

 

Croix bit her tongue, hating that her first instinct was to snap at Chariot and tell her to stop being so childish. Be mature, damnit! She tried again. “It’s cold.”

 

“So you wear it then.” Chariot shivered. “I’m fine.”

 

“Look,” Croix began, scooting closer yet still being mindful of Alcor who glared and threatened to nip her thigh. “Chariot.”

 

Her friend stubbornly stared ahead.

 

“Chariot.”

 

Croix could tell she was beginning to cave when Chariot slowly peered at her from the corner of her eye. 

 

She took a breath. “Chariot, I’m sorry. About what I said before. It was… stupid. I was being stupid.”

 

They eyed each other, herself has hopefully and sincerely as she could, the other warily. Croix was cold, but Chariot was desperately fighting her shivers. She’d been out here for hours longer than Croix and if she was going to keep being stubborn, Croix was going to force her into her cloak. 

 

Chariot caved and sniffled, rubbing at her eyes. “Okay… okay.” 

 

Relieved, Croix made to hand the cloak over, but instead of taking it, Chariot faced her fully, eyes shimmering again. 

 

“I’m sorry too. For being stupid…”

 

Guilt overtaking her, Croix scooted closer, ignoring Alcor, now squished between their thighs. “No, no, Chariot…”

 

“...for… for making you worried…” Chariot dropped her face into her hands, trembling. “I was so afraid you got tired of me. Tired of putting up with my… stupid little hobbies.”

 

...what?

 

“What… what made you think  _ that _ ?”

 

“Be-because!” Chariot looked up desperately, a trail of snot leading from one nostril to her hand. “You’ve got this look on your face! Like… like earlier today when we saw each other; you looked soooo annoyed with me.”

 

Croix struggled to remember what she did hours before.

 

_ Chariot noticed her and made to slow down, a small hesitant smile working its way across her face, the sight of which brought a frown to Croix’s face. _

 

Wait. That?? Was  _ that _ it? But  _ she _ was worried she’d done something to Chariot!

 

Suddenly, Croix snorted, startling her friend. Leave it to the two of them idiots to let the most overused literary cliché to rile them up. 

 

“W-wha…?”

 

“Chariot, I wasn’t annoyed with you. That’s just my face; that’s how I look at everyone.” 

 

Flushing, Chariot scrambled for words, trying to sound serious even with that trail of snot still dangling there. “W-well! Yeah! But you never look at  _ me _ like that.”

 

Brushing away tears of mirth, Croix tilted her head to the side, fighting back laughter. “And how do I look at you?”

 

“You… you…!” Chariot flushed so hard her shivers evaporated. She stared wordless and helpless up at Croix, wide red eyes shimmering with… something.

 

Chariot’s inability to respond and the way she was looking at Croix... somehow Croix found her face reddening to match Chariot’s hair. Teasing Chariot was supposed to be fun, not… whatever’s been happening recently. It had to be that hug! Had to be! Everything between them went weird after that moment. She had to have somehow did the hug wrong; maybe some crucial step she missed in initiating the hug? 

 

Her thoughts went speeding off and before she could lose control of them, Croix quickly changed the topic. Averting her eyes, she gestured weakly at her own nose. “You… you got a little something there.”

 

“Huh?... Ohmygosh!” Mordified, Chariot blushed in a different kind of embarrassment and roughly wiped her face on her shirt sleeve.

 

Croix chuckled. The pair of them were ridiculous. From their first meeting, to every meeting up until now.

 

Picking up a startled Alcor, Croix scooted until her shoulder and hip bumped against Chariot. Before the little crow could get a chance to complain or nip at her, she dropped him in Chariot’s lap and opened her arm, draping Chariot’s cloak over all three of them. 

 

Chariot stared in surprise for a moment before a quiet smile stretched across her lips. Playfully nudging Croix, she snuggled into her and giggled. 

 

It was warm and it was comfortable and even with the way Alcor was glaring at her, being together with Chariot in this stupid shed during this stupid storm was wonderful. 

 

“I wasn’t annoyed with you, you know.” Croix spoke quietly. The howling from the storm had died down hours ago. It was chilly, but with the three of them huddled together like this, it wasn’t uncomfortable at all. Okay. Maybe the stiff sheet metal digging into her back was a bit uncomfortable but she wasn’t going to complain. 

 

“Hm?” A red eye peeked up sleepily from her shoulder.

 

“I was just… worried… I’d done something to make you uncomfortable.”

 

“Like what?”

 

Croix shrugged the shoulder Chariot wasn’t using. “You seemed hesitant to approach me recently so I assumed…” She broke off, hearing the echoes of Chariot’s voice in her own words.

 

The other girl giggled. Though slightly embarrassed, Croix joined in. It was too warm and too comfortable to hold onto any anxieties and fears. She peered at the girl slumped against her and smiled to herself.  

 

Squawking loudly, Alcor pressed into Chariot for attention. With her attention still on Croix, Chariot indulged him absentmindedly. 

 

“You really have a way with animals, don’t you?” Croix asked, watching Alcor melt into her touch. 

 

“Hm? Oh, I guess?’

 

Prodding Alcor with a finger, Croix watched with amusement as he seemed conflicted between darting after Croix’s finger and staying still to enjoy Chariot’s pets. “There was that polar bear from matriculation. What was… his name again?”

 

“Oh, Arcas! You remember him!”

 

“A little hard not to, Chariot. We got pretty close,” Croix responded dryly. 

 

Chariot had the sense to sound sheepish. “Right right…” She hummed. “Arcas and I grew up together. That might be why I’m pretty good with animals.” She giggled. “Better than you anyway.”

 

“Better than most people, I would say.”

 

Flushing, Chariot nudged her, a little rougher than she probably intended, nearly knocking Croix over. “Oh stop it, youuuuu.”

 

She straightened up suddenly, a spark igniting in her eyes. “Oh that reminds me! I have something I want to show you!” Digging around for her wand, Chariot chuckled nervously. “I’ve… actually been practicing with Alcor here in the shed aaaaand I wanna say I got it down.” 

 

Curious, Croix sat back and smiled reassuringly. 

 

Taking a moment to gaze at Croix, Chariot beamed and raised her wand into the air with a flourish. 

 

“ _ Ut stella stellarum tripudium _ !” 

 

Croix watched, dazzled speechless as light shot from Chariot’s wand into the air, bouncing off the walls and ceiling. With a flick of the wrist, Chariot sent out a stream of magic; the lights burst into sparks shooting across the room like fireworks, budding and sprouting in a chain. Colors danced through the air, merging and separating at intervals. And Chariot, the conductor of this gorgeous symphony, directed them to move in formation, the individual sparks coming together in shapes and constellations, a horse one moment and a sparrow taking flight the next. 

 

“And the grand finale!” Chariot called, ever the showman. 

 

With a final flourish, the sparks zoomed together into a shape of a sphere, turning bright red and orange, before they exploded into the form of a fire-breathing dragon, gentle sparks shooting out of its mouth to land harmlessly on them. 

 

Chariot giggled at Croix’s instinctual flinch. And though she was embarrassed, Croix could only watched transfixed as the two of them were showered in dozens of little twinkling sparks. They were a multitude of colors, warm and gentle, yet not a single one compared to the stars in Chariot’s eyes.

 

“So what’d you think?” Chariot asked excitedly.

 

_ It was beautiful… _

 

After that display, and seeing Chariot smile so wholeheartedly, Croix could only manage a nod, feeling her lips twitch into a smile. 

 

Evidently Chariot saw something in her smile because the girl blushed and glanced to the side. “C-come on. Say something then.”

 

Leaning forward to brush the remaining bits of sparks out of Chariot’s hair, Croix smiled, voice gentle, “It was wonderful. I can’t help but smile after seeing it.”

 

Turning as red as her hair, Chariot gaped at Croix, lips flapping uselessly. Alcor squawked to fill in the noise for her.

 

Laughing, Croix swung an arm around Chariot and pulled her in. 

 

What a strange, adorable girl she loved. 

  
  
  
  



End file.
